


Ma'at

by Verbophobic



Series: Fluffy Fireballs [11]
Category: One Piece
Genre: ace's start in the crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verbophobic/pseuds/Verbophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco's words cause Ace to think. On one side of the scale the feather- or rather the mark of Whitebeard, on the other his own heart. Marco plays the role of Ma'at putting the items upon the scale and letting Ace's heart show the truth, would it level the scale and be the same as the feather or would it weigh more and topple?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ma'at

Marco had no idea about what was to come, about the months ahead and the year of agony. 

All the elder man knew at this moment, was that Thatch was fretting fore he was terrified for the boy who refused to eat even after all these months at sea. With a bowl of soup in hand, the phoenix man kneeled and pushed it towards the young man; Marco knew the younger needed healing. The kind of healing he wasn’t sure even Pops could provide.

As Ace looked up, looked at him and for once didn’t just fling the food away or yell at him as he had begun to walk away. Marco knew he was watching and made no move other than to keep his slow and steady pace. He knew Ace would begin to open on his own, and when that gate opened, it would be a flood. “You guys, why do you call him your pops?”

Marco smiled as he turned back, knowing now was the time. “Because he calls us his sons,” Marco started as Ace hid his face in his arms before looking up at the words. “To tha rest of tha world we are all just outcasts, it makes us happy. It’s just a word, but it makes us happy.” He could see as Ace’s face scrunched up before he hid it. 

Marco let out a fond little scuff before walking back over to Ace and kneeling to one knee. One arm rested lazily on that leg and he let his displeasure show in his face and voice. “Hey,” He began again, “how long are ya goin ta keep riskin’ yer life like this?” He knew that Ace needed the push, a hand to help open those flood gates. So he made a demand, “Make up yer mind already!” He glanced down at the soup for a moment. 

He knew what he would say next would not be something that he at his level in the hierarchy of the crew should be saying without Whitebeard’s permission but he had to. “Ya can’t possibly take tha old man’s head the way ya are now. Are you going to get off this ship and start over…” He watched Ace with a scrutinizing but fairly knowing look, “or are ya goin ta stay here…” he heard the small catch of a breath and he knew that having the option left Ace with a lot to consider, “and accept Whitebeard’s mark?”

He knew though that right here, right now, was one of the most important moments in the young man’s life. Marco’s words, his actions, everything he did at this break in time from breathing to speaking to his position and his stature, dictated the way Ace might choose.

If Marco stood, he’d be looking down at Ace and the youth would never accept him or Pops. Standing above Ace would do little more than push the idea that in the crew they weren’t equal. Kneeling on both knees would belittle all the efforts Ace had made for Whitebeard’s head. Like a mocking tribute to the younger. But kneeling as he was, speaking as he was, he was showing Ace that while yes, he was the first division commander, he was no more important as a son to Whitebeard compared to Ace, who still refused the captain.

Standing back up after his small speech he began heading off again. But a shiver ran up his back and he opened his mouth. “My room, it’s tha one ya were thrown through tha floor into. When ya make up yer mind come an find me, yoi.”


End file.
